Every now and then I like to go to a fancy place. So last night I buttoned-up my one and only dress shirt, put on some slacks, got in a cab, and then found myself stumbling through the front doors of the most prestigious building in all of San Jose-- Teatro Nacional. The building was constructed out of so much marble and gold I felt that it should be located at the end of a rainbow. The architecture and artwork was astounding. The attention to detail from everything to architectural structure, life-like marble sculptures, ceiling paintings, and the blatant depiction of colonization distributed throughout all of the art/infrastructure was very interesting.
(History spiel below)
Costa Rica didn't gain independence from Spain until 1821 but Teatro Nacional wasn't completed until 1897. The reason for its construction was because of a famous Italian opera singer, Adelina Patti, who refused to sing in Costa Rica because there wasn't an appropriate enough theatre for her perform. Appalled and embarrassed by how Patti's comment implicated that Costa Rica was inadequate, the rich coffee plantation owners decided to put a levying tax on all exported coffee to raise the funds to build Teatro Nacional to prove that they were indeed independently wealthy from Spain. However, they commissioned Europeans to build Teatro Nacional and ended up with a replica of a typical Spaniard style building. The women in the artwork were drawn to resemble European beauty instead of Costa Rican since darker colored skin was still considered inferior at this time. I find it fascinating at how Costa Rica made an earnest attempt to prove their originality and individuality, but instead got this beautiful replica of a building that only depicts colonization after they gained independence. I didn't mean to go on a tangent.. I just find it ironic & fascinating.
(Back to the story)
The reason I went was to see a piano concerito. Little did I know that it was Sergio Saldi who performed and played some of my favorite, less recited pieces from Bach, Beethoven, Schumman, and Prokofiev. He was very thematic and played with this magnetic fervor that was exciting to watch. I sat intrigued on the 4th row absorbing all I could from the setting, the sound, the applause, the silence. Any type of art that I can watch unfold, especially from someone who is talented and passionate about what they do, what they are creating, I'm awed by. It's been a while since I've had a tranquil evening like that, and one I'm probably not going to experience again for a long time.
Salud! to a night filled with fancy cocktails, button-ups, impressive piano playing, and gold-plated everything.
______________________________
Pianist
I called him fervor.
The way his fingers reminded me of waves breaking shore upon the keys.
Every hair of mine resonated like the ping of tambourines as he played.
We all watched
delicate.
crippled,
by how the pianist was able to make our blood breathe.
every key struck shook the dust off of us
for there is no need for words when the unspoken says enough
language leave me now for all I need to understand is
a blink
a smile
a clap
but I know that when this ends we all will leave
back to the traffic and the debris
we will forget fingertips made of fire
the city built underneath the notes he pounded out
our words will come back
as we attempt to explain what it was we felt
but no matter how hard we try
our words will never be able to capture the sound
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment